Discarding the designer dresses that distress poppypoo so, I settled on a tatty old pair of jeans.
A thin (as ever cotton) blouse, no underwear, and some high heels.

No undies.
Having been around here a while now I would be ASHAMED to wear underwear on a flashing expedition.

Oh, the jeans.. I didn't mention these were a "doctored for flashing" pair, from years gone by. They still fit fine (tomato sandwiches you see.)
They are cut short.

No.. shorter than that.
No.. shorter.
One more inch... just a wee bit more off around the cheeks.

Yep. That's it.

I'm not a lady of great height. Vertically challenged even. But the legs are fine.
Very long.. proportionately, you understand.

The shorts, as they became all those years back, are actually quite baggy in the bum region.
So buttocks are just about visible when I walk along, but should I choose to bend much is revealed.

Yeah, OK, I DID bend over and look over my shoulder in the mirror to check. Happy?

There was a marked tendency for whats left of the material to work it's way into my.... there has to be a better word than bumcrack...surely?

Long les a striding, loose blouse.. there could be anything in there, B cup? Even C cup?

Feeling on good terms with myself I made my way to my car, a longish blonde wig in a bag under my arm.
It's a good wig, looks natural, and is a mild disguise I sometimes choose to employ.

I drove twenty or thirty minutes, and found a shopping centre.

I began by sitting with my legs outside my car, leaning over "searching" for something.

This was OK I knew the passers by were seeing plenty, but I wasn't seeing them.
I regret I'm not equipped with rear view sunglasses, x-ray specs, or the like.

So.. to the shops.

It wasn't turning out to be a warm day, and this wasn't going to become a stamina test.
I headed, then, to the safe and sure option.. the shoe shop.

I got many turned heads, a couple of whistles (both from guys in groups of three plus..typical) a beaming smile, and one "tut tut".

Found the shoe store.
Three female, on emale assistant.

Wander around.
Female assistant approaches.
Look like I know what I want.

"Want some help love?"
"I'm fine thanks."

(The love/miss/madam form of address, depending on my attire, is a dissertation I won't bore you with right now.)

Wander for awhile.
Eventually the women are busy.
Start to look more hesitant.

The guy, young lad of 20, 21, ambles over.
A little discussion.
"OK, I'll take those to start."

A pair of £250 boots.
I tell you this not so you think, "Hey, Amy is well heeled" but because although he had already had an eyeful of the legitimate wares and his attention was grabbed, the cheap slut with the bargain basement look, had suddenly become a profitable source of commission, and not to be upset.

Love those conflicting emotions.

Besides.... boots!

"Want some help love?" had now become, "Anything else madam?"

"Yes, some trainers. But I never know the best sort to wear."

And the fun began.

Surprisingly enough, the ones that interested me were on the bottom rows.

So down we crouched.

Two buttons undone already, quite easy to flick a third, the one that steps from decency to "fucking hell I can see her tits".

All the time watching him trying not to watch me.

But he looked.
Eventually.

I had to lean right across him, "Sorry, just want to see those."
I don't think his commission could have been at a high rate, because he stared at my tits for FAR too long. (Whoever said, "Trying to find them I expect" can fuck off.)

The magical moment came when he looked up at me, and realised I knew he was staring.

I mentioned it wasn't warm, maybe though it was the way I was dressed, because he was sweating.

Strange that guys always have that reaction when you catch them looking.
Normal guys, not you sex hungry flasher types!
Never seems to occur to them..she knew, but she didn't rush to cover up.

faberfranz would have been proud of me at this point.

"Nice pair, don't you think?"

(I'll admit that line was pre-planned should the opportunity present itself.)

Mostly fear in his face. Bright red by now.

"Uuhh.."

"The black ones. I'll try them on."

Over to the chairs.

I can play the madam when it suits.

I sat back, held out a leg, and the trainers.

What choice did he have.

He knelt down and undid the straps on my shoes.

He was a very clumsy lad. Not at all fluent in his movements.

And I think I must have been keeping him from his tea break, as his voice had become very dry and husky.
And small.

How many have worked out the description of the crotch of the jeans yet?

Uh-huh.

Now, shaven or not shaven.
Personally I switch. Sometimes I shave. Sometimes I go natural. Sometimes I weave pretty patterns. (Well, OK, the straight line down the middle thing).

Today the President of America was ready to make an unheralded appearance if I moved my legs far enough apart.

Though that's not easy to do if trying to make some attempt at nonchalance.

But, by now one trainer was on.. a feat acheived without actually touching my skin.

The guy was nervous!

He was about to put the other one on (on me.. there was no reason for him to wear them himself) when I really needed to feel the material, and discover how much give there was.

So I crossed one leg over the other, you know.. the way a man crosses his legs, and the bottom leg kind of swung outwards a bit.

(Hmm..I didn't think it would be that hard to explain)

Previous experiments lead me to believe that not all was covered.

I'd experimented, with the trusty mirror, at home.
The jeans themselves had some say in the matter.

It would have been anything from a few wisps of pubic hairs, to read my lips.

But he took a genuine double take.

I hung it out (time, nothing else to hang) as long as I could.
He sneeked his peeks when he thought my attention was on the trainers.

But finally, it was time to pay.
This was to be my favourite bit.

Two or three customers and the other assistants still around, so low voices.

He was wrapping, adding and swiping...

"You didn't see anything did you?"

Pause.

"Sorry."

"When you were fitting my trainers. Only I know these shorts are a bit ..you know..."

"Oh, right."

"Did you?"

"No, no."

Definitely concerned that I might be about to make a fuss.
(Imagine guys.. YOU flash a WOMAN..and she's worried she'll get in trouble....)

"Only you seemed to keep looking at, you know.."

"Did I. Err..I.."

Then I smiled.
"Did you like it?"

His smile in return was probably relief, but I choose to think he did.

Administrator

Only wish I could have been there, lurking just around the corner of an aisle or some display, watching the whole scene, seeing you through HIS eyes (albeit from farther away), jerking off For Your Eyes Only.

I want to flash Britney Spears

I'm very grateful to you, accidental, for your assistance with my punctuation.
I don't set much store here by punctuation, grammar, formatiing etc since I am recounting experiences.
However, since you clearly do, I decide to have a look at your previous posts.
Aside from complaining about my "punctuation" you haven't contributed much, just two other posts.
One was rather long, and would be very time consuming but your shorter one was as follows:

Haha, the reason they acted nervous when you said it was your first time is b/c they think you're a cop. They always ask, "you been here before?". If you say yes, then they figure you know whaz up. But if you say "no", they play it cool and if you ask for favors they tend to grill you to make sure you ain't law enforecement... (Not that I've ever been to one of those places )

I flash flesh.

Accidental, did you believe that SkinnyBlonde would not look at your pathetic attempt at a post? You are out of your league my boy; most of us are. Read SkinnyBlondes' posts and reply like the rest of us but don't be a critic if you don't want the same in return. I personally liked the story and the format. I do have a little infatuation issue though... maybe I am biased. No, he's a donkey!

"...if there is anyone with a very adventurous way of thinking, and in the south of the UK...Let's get the passives more active. Would you be prepared to follow the ideas and suggestions of other posters?...We do the deed, and have photos taken as it is done. Then I, or you, whoever, can tell the story of the incident, complete with photos.
We can post the words, and maybe post the photos..."

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